Upon A Midnight Clear
by saxgirl42
Summary: A winter sea voyage turns dangerous when assassins target the newly-appointed Fuhrer Mustang and his most talented alchemist, Edward Elric. Rated T for language and violence.
1. The World In Solemn Stillness Lay

_**Author's Note:**_ _Welcome to my first published Fullmetal Alchemist fic! As you can see, it is loosely based on Christmas because, well... it's almost Christmas! And I love Christmas! (Also note the word "loosely"... this is by no means your normal fluffy Christmas story. You have been warned...)_

_Anyway, some details to know before you read. I set this in my version of FMA's "perfect world." AKA, it's a few years later than the end of the anime, Alphonse's body is back, both he and Edward are in Amestris, Mustang is Fuhrer, and pretty much everything is hunky-dory. Except Hughes is still dead. And Edward still has automail. (My apologies, Mr. Elric, but it makes you more fun to write!)_

_This will be a multi-chapter fic (I KNOW: GASP) so do not be sad if this chapter is not full of action. It will come soon, my friends! Be patient and fear not!_

_I think that's about it, then, so just enjoy, and please leave feedback! Comments are love, people! Thanks!_

_**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, not me._

_- - - _

**1. The World In Solemn Stillness Lay**

It was freezing on the deck of the _St. Emery_, but the chill did nothing to deter eighteen year-old Edward Elric from relishing the early morning air. Bundling up in his military uniform with a thick woolen hat and gloves helped defend against the sharp wind, and being below deck tended to make him seasick. It was nice to get some fresh air.

He heaved a sigh, leaning against the metal rail and staring out at the vast horizon. He was trying – and failing – to forget that today was Christmas Eve, and that Alphonse was happily back in Risembool with Winry and Pinako while he was stuck out at sea with that bastard of a Fuhrer. He ground his teeth at the thought of spending one of his favorite holidays with Mustang for company. While the two had definitely been getting along better since Edward had managed to get Alphonse's body back, he could _not_ forgive the older man for making him tag along on this stupid political venture.

"Security, my ass," Edward muttered, glaring at the churning water below him. That had been Mustang's excuse; Edward was to provide extra security against any would-be assassins. While it was true that the newly appointed Fuhrer was at risk of being a target for any political radicals, Edward didn't understand why Mustang couldn't just use the plethora of military personnel whose _job_ it was to keep him alive.

Edward sighed again, watching his breath mist before his face. If everything went well in Xing, they would be back before the New Year. That was consolation enough at this point, and Edward started to formulate plans for that night in his mind.

"Mornin', Chief."

Edward turned to greet the newly promoted Lieutenant-Colonel Jean Havoc, who was already lighting his first cigarette of the day.

"Hey, Havoc."

"You seem pleasantly morose this morning. What's up?" Havoc asked. Edward half-smiled sheepishly; the other man always had been good at reading him.

"I'm just thinking," he said, turning back to the horizon. "It's Christmas Eve, and we're stuck out here in the middle of nowhere escorting 'his highness' to Xing when we could be back with our families."

"Ah." Havoc joined him at the rail, blowing his smoke into the wind thoughtfully. "I guess that does suck for you, being away from Al, and all. But for me, you and the Fuhrer are two of the closest things I've got to family, anyway, so…" He shrugged, trailing off. Edward watched his profile and smiled, feeling touched.

"Thanks, Havoc," he said. Havoc smirked and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Don't let it go to your head, Chief. I outrank you now so I could have you court-martialed for getting too mushy," he joked. Edward grinned and relaxed against the rail, happy at least to have Havoc with him so they could deal with Mustang together.

"You know, I'm surprised Hawkeye didn't come along," he said after a moment of silence.

"She wanted to," Havoc said. "You know how she doesn't trust anyone else to protect Mustang properly." Edward nodded. "But he insisted she stay back in Central so he has someone reliable to delegate to while he's away."

"That makes sense, but I can't imagine her taking it well," Edward said with a mischievous grin. Havoc smirked.

"There was some yelling and threatening, but eventually Mustang made her see reason."

A bell tolled on the deck, making both men jump.

"Geez, I hate that," Havoc grumbled as they made their way inside. "Is it really necessary for them to announce breakfast like we're a bunch of cattle?" Edward chuckled and slipped out of his coat, hanging it beside Havoc's on the rack just inside the door. He stuffed his hat and gloves haphazardly into the pockets before the two joined the ranks of sailors and military personnel walking toward the mess hall.

Once inside they headed for the long head table, where Edward could already see the Fuhrer seated. He frowned slightly; Mustang was at the very end of the table, and he was cradling his head in gloved hands.

"What's up with Mustang?" Edward asked Havoc quietly as they approached.

"He's just stressed," Havoc muttered. "The Xing ambassador kept him on the phone almost all night. I heard him finally go to bed around four this morning." Edward winced in sympathy.

"You'd think they could leave the talking until we actually arrived," he said.

"Yes, Fullmetal, you would," Mustang grumbled, having overheard their conversation. Havoc saluted on reflex, but quickly lowered his hand at the exasperated look his Fuhrer shot him.

"You look like hell, Flame," Havoc said genially, clapping Mustang on the back as he took the seat beside him. Mustang laughed humorlessly.

"Well, good, because I _feel_ like hell," he said. Edward settled across from them, already pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Coffee, Fullmetal?" Mustang inquired, cocking an eyebrow his direction. Edward flushed indignantly.

"What about it?"

"Nothing," Mustang said with a careless shrug. "I just never knew you liked it."

"It's not the actual coffee I like so much as the caffeine," Edward said, sipping the black liquid with a pained expression. Mustang smirked.

"Well, it's nice to see you're finally growing up," he said, his visible eye twinkling dangerously. Edward's hands clenched around his mug at the veiled jab at his height, but he refrained from commenting. He had promised himself that he wouldn't let it bother him anymore, especially since he had grown three and a half inches that summer. He was still about a head shorter than Mustang, but that was beside the point.

"Excuse me, Fuhrer?" A young pageboy had just come up to the table, bowing respectfully. Edward watched him out of the corner of his eye, still rather unused to people showing Mustang such respect.

"At ease," the Fuhrer said, and Edward was surprised to hear a soft note in the man's voice. The boy appeared less nervous because of it when he rose.

"The Xing ambassador is on the telephone. He says he has a couple more subjects that he would like to discuss before the formal meetings commence."

"Not even four hours later…" Mustang growled. He sighed, then flashed his famous knee-weakening smile at the pageboy. "Thank you. You may tell him I will speak to him soon." The pageboy bowed and excused himself and Mustang dropped his head back into his hands with a huge sigh. "Ridiculous."

"It's karma. This is what you get for making me miss Christmas with Al," Edward said bitterly. Mustang glared at him from between his fingers.

"I had nothing to do with scheduling these meetings, Fullmetal. You don't think I would rather be back in Central for Christmas? Besides, they don't celebrate Christmas in Xing so you can't really blame them." He sighed and stood, stretching languorously. "I'd better go talk to that idiot ambassador." He reached across the table and plucked Edward's coffee mug from the young man's grip, eliciting a squawk of annoyance. Mustang just smiled and took a long drink, then replaced the mug and left without another word.

"Bastard!" Edward shouted after him, earning a couple of shocked glances. He slammed the half-empty mug down on the table in frustration and glared at Havoc, who was trying hard not to laugh. "Do you see this? _This_ is what I'm missing my Christmas for!"

"It's his way of showing affection, Ed. You should be used to it by now," Havoc chuckled, standing to go to the buffet.

"I don't think _anyone_ should have to put up with this kind of affection," Edward muttered. Havoc put a hand on his shoulder.

"Think of it this way," he said quietly. "Mustang could have chosen any alchemist in Amestris to guard him on this trip, and he picked _you_. What do you think that says about how he really feels?"

"He hates me and this is my punishment," Edward spat. Havoc just grinned and shook his head before heading off to the buffet.

Edward knew what Havoc was getting at. He knew that Mustang had chosen him because he trusted him and had faith in his skills, but it was somewhat hard for Edward to come to terms with that fact. He had always just assumed that he was a pawn for Mustang to use in his plans for becoming Fuhrer. He had been so ready to leave the military and be out from underneath Mustang's influence that he had gone straight to Central after getting Alphonse's body back, in order to finally quit being a State Alchemist.

Mustang had been ready for him. Edward remembered how grim the General's face had looked when he had walked into the office for the last time, ready to resign and leave the military for good. Mustang hadn't begged him to stay. He had just voiced his quiet disappointment at losing a trusted, talented subordinate, and wished Edward luck in his future. It was this that had made Edward reconsider his resignation, and now… here he was, still serving under the same bastard but respecting him more than ever.

Edward sighed and finished off his coffee before rising to go to his quarters. He didn't have much of an appetite because of the seasickness and just the smell of the food was making him feel nauseous. He waved at Havoc on the way out and soon found himself alone in the metallic hall. The abrupt loss of noise helped his dizziness, and he closed his eyes and rested against the wall for a few moments to collect himself.

From his position he could hear people speaking loudly in a room nearby. Curious, he listened in and recognized the voice of the good-natured first mate, to who he and Mustang had been introduced yesterday. His brow furrowed as he began to catch snatches of the conversation.

"- know anything about it! Where did you hear that?" the first mate was asking, sounding rather flustered. The other voice held a trace of a Xing accent, as though the speaker had once tried to hide it but his anger was making it more pronounced.

"One of your men mentioned that he was onboard! If anything goes wrong for this mission, both you and your captain will pay the consequences." Edward opened his eyes and edged closer to the door. This definitely was not a normal discussion…

"Honestly, I know nothing about it," the first mate insisted.

"Don't lie," the second man spat. "If the Fullmetal Alchemist is on this ship, he could ruin everything. You should know the mission, you are getting part of the reward. The Fuhrer must not reach Xing!"

Edward had to work to suppress a growl. So Mustang _wasn't_ just being a paranoid bastard; people on this ship were after his life.

The blonde ran for Mustang's chambers, intent on warning him of the danger. When he got to the door he barged in without even knocking. Mustang was seated at a large desk with the phone to his ear, twirling a pen in his other hand. He fixed Edward with a dark look and gestured for him to leave with a flick of the pen, but the younger man shook his head. He walked up to the desk and snatched the pen from Mustang's fingers, then grabbed a spare piece of paper and scribbled down a quick message.

_Danger. Assassins onboard._

Mustang watched him write, dark eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Sir, I am afraid I will have to call you back," he said into the phone. Edward could hear the ambassador's incensed blathering, but Mustang cut him off. "I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience." With that, he hung up the phone and focused all attention on Edward.

"Tell me."

- - -

_To be continued..._


	2. O Ye Beneath Life's Crushing Load

_**Author's Note:**__ Here it is, the second chapter! Let the action commence! XD _

_Yep. Not much to say, really. I just want to thank everyone who reviewed, and encourage you to do it again! COMMENTS = LOVE._

_Also, I've been getting a few questions about whether or not this will be a Roy/Ed story, and it will NOT. I, personally, have nothing against yaoi, but you will not find it here. This is purely a friendship fic._

_So I'll stop rambling, and please enjoy! And Merry Vague Holiday!_

_**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist still belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, not me._

_- - - _

**2. O Ye Beneath Life's Crushing Load**

The day was a stressful one. Edward hounded the Fuhrer's every step, not letting anyone get too close. Havoc and a few other trusted military personnel had been informed of the threat on Mustang's life, and they, too, were keeping their eyes open for anything suspicious.

Following Havoc's advice, Mustang stayed in his room for the majority of the afternoon, looking over paperwork and being guarded closely by Edward. Neither alchemist was too thrilled with this arrangement, but they couldn't deny that it was their safest option while still on the ship.

Edward lay sprawled out on Mustang's bed while the dark-haired man sat at the desk, perusing an old treaty that was up for reassessment. The blonde glanced at the clock on the nightstand; it was 7:40 PM. He heaved a sigh and turned over, tapping his automail fingers on the wooden nightstand in boredom. He managed to keep this up for a good three minutes or so before Mustang's eyebrow began to twitch.

"Fullmetal, I would appreciate it if you could not be annoying for at least five minutes," he growled. Edward flipped on the bed and glared at the Fuhrer.

"I can't help it if guarding you is one of the dullest things I've ever had to do," he retorted. Mustang rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't mean you have to punish me for it. After all, it _is_ your job."

"I know that, Fuhrer Bastard, but that's not why I'm mad."

"You're mad?"

"Yeah, I'm pissed at you for dragging me away over Christmas!"

"I told you, Fullmetal, I had nothing to do with that."

"Bullshit, oh great Fuhrer," Edward said sarcastically. "You _picked_ me to come with you. That was _all you_."

"_Damnit_, Edward, yes!" Mustang snapped. "But if you hate me so much, then by all means, don't trouble yourself any further!"

Edward was speechless for a moment. It wasn't like Mustang to be so easily riled; that was usually Edward's job.

"Sir, I –"

"You are dismissed, Fullmetal," Mustang interrupted, calm again.

"But it's not saf –"

"I have protected myself without your help for more years than I care to admit, Edward. Now I believe I told you that you are _dismissed_." The tone left no room for argument. Edward shoved himself off the bed and left without another word, slamming the door behind him.

Once he was back in his own room, he threw himself down on the bed and tried to think about what had just happened. Something definitely wasn't right. Mustang did not throw tantrums. Havoc had said earlier that the man was stressed, but that was no excuse for him to just explode like that. If anyone could handle stress, it was Mustang.

"He knows something," Edward muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head. Mustang always acted strange when he knew something he didn't want his subordinates to know, and it was usually something that would later end up putting the Flame Alchemist in some kind of peril.

Edward groaned and rose to a sitting position, running an exasperated hand through his blonde locks.

_Stupid Fuhrer,_ he thought. _I should probably go back soon so he doesn't end up getting himself killed. God knows Hawkeye will shoot me at first sight if he comes back with so much as a freaking paper-cut._

He had just reached for the doorknob when two sharp knocks sounded from the other side, just about making him jump out of his skin.

"Jeez, what?" he growled, opening the door with a bit too much force. The pageboy standing outside his room just stared at him in wide-eyed horror, so Edward sighed and calmed himself. "Yes?"

"Um, the F-Fuhrer t-told me to send the wine to your room," the boy stammered, still looking rather frightened. Edward narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but then remembered that he had, in fact, ordered wine almost a half hour ago, having charged it to Mustang's tab as retribution for the coffee incident that morning.

"Thanks, kid. Do I owe you anything?" Edward asked, taking the proffered bottle and glass. The pageboy shook his head.

"No, sir. Have a good night," he said before bolting down the hall like the very hounds of hell were behind him. Edward snickered and shut the door, shaking his head and wondering if he had ever been that easily flustered. He glanced at the bottle of wine and decided it couldn't hurt to have a glass before returning to guard duty.

His mind wandered while he poured. It was the twenty-fourth of December. That meant he had a week before New Years, when he had promised Alphonse he would return. Mustang had sworn he would be able to uphold that promise, but now it wasn't looking so good. The assassins – of course – complicated things. If Mustang managed to get to Xing still alive (Edward didn't dwell on the other option; with all the guards at their disposal, the Fuhrer was more than safe), the captain and first mate's involvement in the attempted murder would have to be taken into account, as would the assassin himself. And since the people who wanted the Fuhrer dead seemed to be _from_ Xing, that was sure to prolong the meetings, and then…

Edward heaved a sigh. There was a good chance that this year he would be forced to miss both Christmas _and_ New Years.

He took another sip of the wine, frowning slightly. He looked at the bottle again, trying to see what was off about the taste, but then he caught it. His eyes widened in realization and he threw the bottle across the room, where it shattered against the far wall, spraying dark glass everywhere and creating a red waterfall of wine that pooled on the floor below.

Edward crushed the wine glass in his automail hand and let the pieces fall. With barely a thought he stuffed his left pointer finger down his throat, making himself gag. He kept it up, eyes watering furiously, until at last he managed to empty his stomach, falling to his knees and heaving as acidic bile poured out of his mouth. It didn't take long to finish, seeing as he hadn't eaten anything all day, but Edward knew that would only make it worse. He could already feel himself getting dizzy, and it took a minute or two for him to stand again. He staggered for the door, intent upon finding Havoc or even Mustang to warn them, but he only made it two steps before collapsing.

The poison was spreading too fast. His vision was tunneling and the roaring in his ears was growing louder by the second.

"Damn," he rasped, desperately trying to cling to consciousness as explosions dotted his vision. "Mustang…"

Everything went black.

- - -

On deck, Havoc lit a cigarette, the flame from his lighter casting an orange glow over the bottom half of his face. He doused it with a flick of his wrist and took a drag from the cig, looking out over the chilly water. He sighed, blowing his smoke into the wind, and checked his watch by the dim light of the moon. Edward was still guarding Mustang; he had another five hours until his shift began.

Havoc sighed again and took another drag. An assassination attempt had been one of the last things on his mind when he had boarded the _St. Emery_. Sure, it was always a possibility – what with Mustang being the new Fuhrer and all – but he hadn't expected any trouble from Xing. They were meeting for _peace_ talks, for goodness' sake!

He shook his head at the irony of it all and took one more drag from the cigarette before tossing it into the sea. The cold wind was becoming increasingly bitter, and he could see clouds forming on the horizon. It looked and felt like a storm was brewing, and Havoc wanted to be below deck when it came.

He walked inside, saluting a soldier who had been manning the door, and headed for Mustang's room, figuring he could keep Edward company during his watch. He smirked, knowing very well that the Fuhrer was neck-high in paperwork. Hawkeye would be proud.

Havoc felt the presence behind him before the strong hands grabbed him, one twisting his arm up behind his back, the other clamping over his mouth.

"You will be silent," a low voice said. "And you will come with me."

- - -

Edward jolted to wakefulness with a wordless cry.

The room was spinning horribly. Slurring curses, he stumbled to his feet and made for the door, knowing damn well that there was only one reason anyone on this particular boat would target him:

They wanted Mustang.

Edward wrenched the door open to reveal a pitch-black hallway. He stopped for a second, wondering vaguely what time it was, then determined it didn't really matter. He made a wobbly beeline for Mustang's room, ricocheting off the walls as he tried to walk faster than the poison would allow. All he could think of was Mustang, and how he had left him alone. Alone! When there was a known threat on his life!

_Stupid,_ he thought furiously, almost falling as he rounded a corner. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! He could be dead, already dead, and it's my fault, all my fault, stupid, stupid, _stupid!

Edward burst through the Fuhrer's door without knocking and was unsurprised to find it empty. With a roar of frustration, he pounded his automail fist into the doorframe, leaving a rather impressive dent.

"MUSTANG!" he cried, shoving away from the empty room and heading for the deck even as his drugged mind tried to work out where they might have taken the Fuhrer.

He heard a voice outside, loud and mocking. It was coming from somewhere around the stern, so Edward went that direction first. He slipped and fell twice on the briny deck. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, forcing the ship through rougher waters and a dangerous winter storm, but Edward only vaguely noticed. His deluded mind was too focused on finding Mustang and keeping him alive.

What if he wasn't alive? What would Edward tell Havoc? That he had left Mustang in a tantrum, had some poisoned wine, and fallen into an intoxicated sleep?

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ he thought again, repeating the word like a mantra.

There was more yelling up ahead, then raucous laughter. Edward staggered toward the noise, clutching at the heaving metal walls and ignoring the freezing salt spray soaking his clothes. He still couldn't see straight, and it felt like his mind was wandering outside of his body.

At long last he was able to make out two men, circling something at the stern of the ship. Or was it four men…? Edward blinked and realized his vision was doubling now. _Were_ there two men? Four? No, there was only one. He shook his head rapidly in a futile attempt to clear his head, but it only worsened his situation.

"OY!" he yelled, lurching toward the man, who was now four men in the blonde's eyes. They all turned, completely unworried, to face him with matching leering grins.

"You are too late, Fullmetal Alchemist," they said in one voice, all raising identical guns and pointing them at a lone dark figure pinned against the back rail of the ship. Edward's head cleared as he registered the dark hair, the dark blue uniform, the eyepatch…

_Mustang._

"NO!" Edward screamed, lunging forward just as the man pulled the trigger. Mustang's body jolted as the bullet hit him, then tipped over the rail as if in slow motion and was lost to the churning sea below.

All time seemed to stop.

Edward was frozen, halfway between the assassin who was no longer doubled and the place where his Fuhrer had just disappeared.

"Roy," he begged, golden eyes wide as he stared at the emptiness. His heart had stopped, his throat was clogged, he couldn't breathe.

Mustang was dead.

He had failed.

- - -

_To be continued..._


	3. And Still Their Heavenly Music Floats

_**Author's Note:**__ For some reason, I found this chapter more difficult to write than the previous two. Odd. Well, it's finished now, so without any ado at all, please read and enjoy!_

_Comments and constructive criticism are encouraged, so don't forget to review! Thank you!_

_**Disclaimer:** "Fullmetal Alchemist" is owned by Hiromu Arakawa._

_- - - _

**3. And Still Their Heavenly Music Floats**

Edward sagged, shame and rage consuming his drugged mind. The assassin was laughing at him, at his Fuhrer's death, at _Mustang's_ death.

Roy Mustang was dead.

He was dead, and he had been killed on Edward's watch.

This was not supposed to happen. Mustang could not _die_.

"Aw, is the little military dog sad because he lost his master?" the assassin chuckled mockingly, aiming the gun nonchalantly at Edward's face. "I can make it better if you want. You can go join him." When Edward was unable to respond, the man just laughed louder.

Every guffaw was like a sword in Edward's side, each one inserted with great care, and then _twisted_. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt pain like this. Probably when he had found out Hughes was dead, or when the Gate had tried to take his brother from him.

But what could he give up now to get Mustang back? There was no Gate to pull him out of, no transmutation he could use to reclaim the man's soul. The Flame Alchemist was gone. And as Edward realized this, he experienced a moment of clarity, and he realized what he had to do.

Lucid golden eyes locked on the assassin, who stopped laughing immediately at the expression on the young man's face. It was beyond anger, beyond despair. There were no words to describe the amount of loathing and rage in those eyes, and the assassin actually found himself fearing for his life, despite the fact that he knew the alchemist had been drugged and _he_ held the gun.

Edward clapped and blue alchemy consumed his right arm, transforming it into his trademark blade. With a roar, he launched himself at the assassin just as the man fired two shots. One skimmed Edward's cheek, leaving a burning, bloody trail, and the other ricocheted off his metal arm. The assassin cried out and only barely managed to roll out of the alchemist's way. Edward sliced into the metal railing of the ship instead, carving through it as though it was made of butter. The assassin barely managed to lift his gun before the enraged Edward charged him again, knocking the weapon out of his shaking hand. It clattered on the deck and came to rest near the rail. The assassin watched its trajectory with wide eyes, then scrambled away from the alchemist on his hands and knees.

It was Edward's turn to laugh now, and he did so mirthlessly.

"You _run_?" he called after the assassin. "You kill the Fuhrer of Amestris, mock me, and then _run_?!" He was barely aware of himself, having let the rage completely consume him. He ruthlessly kicked the retreating assassin in the side with his automail foot and heard the satisfying crunch of bones breaking, accompanied by the man's own agonized scream. It wasn't enough. He kicked again, wanting to make the man feel all of the pain and emptiness he was feeling. Another crack, another scream, but never enough.

The assassin managed to reach the gun with the last of his strength and raised it, aiming shakily at Edward as tears streamed down his painfully contorted face.

"Die!" he spluttered, and his finger tightened around the trigger.

Edward didn't even try to dodge. It could have been the drug, it could have been his anguish, but either way he was ready to accept his fate – the same as Mustang's – and he stared down the barrel of the gun without fear.

Flames suddenly engulfed the assassin, and Edward had to look away to avoid hurting his eyes. He could hear the man screaming in pure agony, the cry tearing its way out of the man's throat like a knife through an open wound. The heat was enough to make Edward's skin prickle, and he almost screamed himself, but as abruptly as the attack began… it stopped.

Edward peeked over at the man and immediately gagged. All hair had been singed from the man's body, and all that remained of his black outfit were ashy fragments that blew away in the freezing wind. The man's mouth was still spread wide in a frozen cry of pain, and Edward could see smoke rising from his throat. His eyes were glazed white, wide with agony, and steaming. Even his pistol had been melted, the molten steel dripping down the man's unfeeling forearm.

Edward was stunned. His temporary bravado left him and he fell to his knees in disbelief, unable to tear his gaze from the grotesque corpse before him. Only one man he knew could produce firepower like that, but he was… he was…

"Are you all right, Ed?"

Impossible. It wasn't possible. Was it?

Edward finally tore his eyes from the dead man and watched with breathless shock as Mustang stepped around the doorframe, whole and very much alive. He still held his gloved hand before him in case of more danger, but his worried gaze was focused solely on Edward. The blonde staggered to his feet and was running to his Fuhrer before he could fully register what had happened. He threw his arms around Mustang's torso, breathing in his spicy, ashy smell. It was true. It was him, and he was _alive_.

Mustang hesitantly wrapped his arms around the younger alchemist, somewhat surprised at the show of affection.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I didn't know who was listening, and –"

"Don't," Edward murmured into the older man's chest. His fingers clutched at the man's back, tangling into the thick material of his jacket. "Just… don't do it again." Mustang smiled and rested his chin on the other alchemist's head.

"Sure, Ed. I promise."

They stood like that for a couple minutes until Edward pulled away.

"Wait," he muttered, his mind still foggy. "If you're here, then… who did the guy shoot?"

"A moving dummy, basically," Mustang sighed, "made of completely alchemic materials. Not quite a homunculus, but close enough." Edward frowned; that made more sense than it should have. He turned back toward the corpse.

"And what should we do with him?" he asked quietly.

"Leave him," Mustang said darkly. "It's a sign for any other would-be assassins. This is what happens when you mess with the Flame." Edward shuddered slightly at the prospect.

"Are you still feeling the drug?" Mustang asked. "Let's get you inside." His arm tightened around Edward's shoulders and he led the younger man back through the open door, steering him toward the medical ward.

Edward barely even noticed that they were moving, let alone where they were headed. His moment of clarity had passed, and he still felt woozy from the drug. It didn't even occur to him to wonder how Mustang knew he had been poisoned. As they walked he leaned on Mustang a bit more than he would normally have liked, but he supposed it was better than falling down. He allowed himself to be led like a child through the dark halls of the ship and was only jolted back to himself when he felt the movement stop.

"Edward, can you stand? I need to speak with these men for a moment," Mustang said, and Edward suddenly realized that there were four soldiers staring at them curiously. He nodded and reached out a wobbly hand for the wall. Mustang – seeing his trouble – just sighed and held him closer.

"Never mind. Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of him," he said to the men. The tallest man – clearly the senior, from the gold bars on his coat – stepped forward and saluted.

"Sir, Lieutenant-Colonel Havoc has the captain and the first mate under close guard in the bridge. He awaits your orders."

"Keep them under observation," Mustang said sharply. "Tell Havoc I will be there after I get Major Elric to the medical ward."

"Yes, sir." All four men saluted and left.

"Ready, Edward?"

Edward nodded, and the two of them finally made it to the one-room medical ward. It was empty, so Mustang carefully lowered Edward onto the nearest cot and headed for the door.

"I'm going to find the nurse. You'll be all right by yourself for a minute, right?" he called over his shoulder.

"Sure," Edward muttered. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to Mustang's retreating footsteps echo in the metal hallway.

An alchemical dummy. It was brilliant, really; even Edward had fallen for it. He had read about politicians using them as decoys before, but it had never occurred to him that Mustang would need one. Come to think of it, Edward had yet to really come to terms with the fact that Mustang had finally succeeded in becoming the Fuhrer. To the citizens of Amestris, the Flame Alchemist was their new, fearless leader. To Edward, the Flame Alchemist would always just be his commanding officer. A constant, immovable force, annoying at times, but always there.

Constant, at least, until about fifteen minutes earlier (had it really only been minutes?) when Edward had thought that immovable force had been snatched from him. He shivered as he remembered the immediate emptiness that had consumed him. It… _frightened_ him to realize how much he had come to rely upon the older alchemist. He was wrenched from these musings by the return of Mustang, accompanied by a young woman still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"He's been drugged," Mustang was telling the woman, "but I don't think he's consumed more than a slight dose of whatever poison was used. He already seems more coherent."

"I'm fine," Edward insisted, scooting away from the nurse when she approached. "It's wearing off. And how did you know I was drugged?" He directed the last question to Mustang, who was leaning against the doorframe with hands in his pockets.

"Why does it matter? And hold still for the nice lady, I woke her up specifically so she could take a look at you," he said. Edward grumbled but allowed the young woman to shine a light in his eyes and check his reflexes. He could already feel the fog in his mind dissipating, and he was less dizzy than he had been five minutes earlier, so the drug – whatever it had been – was definitely wearing off.

"Look, I have to go meet Havoc. Are you okay here?" Mustang asked, preparing to leave.

"Wait a sec," Edward said, suddenly thinking of something. "Were you _alone_ after I left you? 'Cause I'm sorry about that, you know. I should hav –"

"Stop apologizing before you embarrass yourself," Mustang interrupted with a ghost of his usual smirk. "It's fine. Havoc was with me. I kidnapped him from his break so that no one would notice you were gone. He stayed with me until just recently, when I sent him off to look for you."

"For me?" Edward blinked, speaking around the nurse's tongue press as she inspected his mouth. "Why?"

"Because I was worried," Mustang said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I hadn't seen you since we fought, and I wasn't sure whether or not they would go after you to get to me." He paused, shrugging. "Apparently, they would."

"Oh," Edward said quietly.

"He seems fine, Fuhrer," the nurse declared, wiping her hands on a towel. "The drug is wearing off, but I'm going to insist he stay here for the rest of the night, just in case."

"Thank you, Tess," Mustang said with a smile. The nurse blushed and ducked out of the room, scribbling on a chart nervously. Edward rolled his eyes, and Mustang grinned at him. "Good night, Fullmetal. I expect you to still be here when I come check on you in the morning."

"Sure, sure," Edward said. Mustang left with a last wave, and Edward heaved a sigh, lying back on the cot and closing his eyes. It had been a long night…

- - -

The rest of the sea voyage passed without incident. They arrived on time at the port in Xing, and Edward found himself grumpily guarding the baggage on the dock while Mustang and Havoc spoke with some soldiers nearby. His thoughts drifted constantly to his brother. If he left on a ship today, he could make it back with plenty of time to celebrate the New Year…

But Mustang had said the meetings were already being prolonged. Not a surprise, really, what with the assassination attempt and all. Edward shuddered, recalling the image and smell of the burned corpse, the belief that the Fuhrer had been killed…

"Fullmetal."

Speak of the devil.

Edward turned, but the scowl on his face disappeared when he saw the envelope being offered to him.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously, reaching out to take it. Mustang smiled.

"Just open it."

Edward slit the envelope and pulled out what was inside. He turned it over and his frown deepened. It was a boat ticket, for a return trip to Amestris that was to set sail in a half hour.

"What's this for?" he asked. Mustang shrugged.

"It's your Christmas present. And this way you can be back with your brother for the New Year. I'm not going to force you to stay here and deal with a bunch of cutthroat politicians."

"Thanks," Edward said quickly, "but aren't you still in danger? We don't know that the assassin was working alone, and now that you're in Xing –"

"That's why I have Havoc with me. And the twenty other guards who accompanied us, as I'm sure you remember," Mustang said, his eye twinkling. Edward snorted.

"Yeah, big help they were on the ship," he said bitterly. Mustang smiled.

"Well, it's your decision," he said, turning away. "If you want to go back to Amestris, you have your ticket, but I won't deny you the right to stay here, either. I am fine with whatever you choose."

Edward watched Mustang's back retreat into the crowds, unconsciously gripping the ticket hard enough to crumple it a bit. God knew he wanted to go home, but as he stared at his Fuhrer's back – saw how vulnerable it was amidst the milling populace, so easy for someone to just stab a knife into – he doubted if he could feel good about leaving.

Golden eyes traveled back and forth between the ticket and where Mustang had disappeared. With a heavy sigh, he stuffed the ticket in his pocket and picked up his suitcase, hurrying through the crowds so he wouldn't lose his group.

Alphonse would understand.

_ - fin -_

_**A/N:** Yes, my dear readers, "fin." I had planned this story to be three chapters from the very beginning, but I am still intrigued with my little "FMA-utopia" universe so I may make this into a little series. I already have another FMA story brewing (completely different from this one, really - my mind works in many different ways) so who knows?_

_Thank you for reading, and please leave some feedback! A Happy (Late) New Year to all!_


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